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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688646">Roustabout</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa'>maaaaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:33:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roustabout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The days were long and the pay was mediocre, but it was good, honest work.</p>
<p>Blair had feared the hubbub of sights, sounds, and smells of a traveling carnival would wreak havoc on Jim’s senses. But instead, the constant bedlam taught Jim a level of control neither man would have thought possible. Every new out of the way berg instantly became Jim’s territory; each new mob of thrill-seekers, part of his tribe.</p>
<p>Jim turned out to be a crackerjack mechanic, which shouldn’t have surprised Blair as much as it did, and he kept the rides in tip-top shape. Blair took on odd jobs as the venue demanded…selling tickets one day, barking sideshows the next, or slinging chili-dogs and slushy sno-cones to hyperactive kids of all ages when the crowds were larger than expected and the days hotter than blazes.</p>
<p>None of the carnies knew who they were and no one asked. The life leant itself to a close-knit mindset of people outside of the mainstream, anonymous, hidden in plain sight. It suited them just fine.</p>
<p>~*~*~</p>
<p>Sunday rolled around…the last day of the current booking…and the last day was always the best. An anxiousness filled the air as carnival goers tried to cram as much fun and excitement into the day as possible. Jim thrived on the vibes, giving his senses free rein.</p>
<p>When the last stragglers of the exhausted crowd left, the carnival was broken down and packed up in a synchronized operation that could put any military drill to shame, ready to roll come dawn.</p>
<p>And then, in the cool quiet of the night, Jim prowled the perimeter of the grounds one last time, checking that all was right. He entered the small trailer he and Blair shared; he was slicked with sweat, gritty-dirty from the day’s work, and smudged with streaks of grease, reeking of raunchy maleness.</p>
<p>Blair met Jim as he came in. He was shirtless, wearing his ratty jeans, the ones that refused to stay up without a belt, and he immediately pressed close, invading Jim’s personal space. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the funky, rank odor of his lover. He watched Jim, waiting for the irritated growl he knew was forthcoming as Jim tried to wriggle away. Blair smiled and the protest died. He found a small rip in Jim’s grimy white tee shirt, a tiny slash right under Jim’s left nipple, and he slid a finger in, tsk’ing with a devilish chuckle as he tugged and tugged, enlarging the tear until half of Jim’s chest was exposed.</p>
<p>Jim closed his eyes and shook his head, amused at Blair’s antics. He never understood how Blair could be instantly turned on by how he smelled when he was ripe enough to wilt flowers. He caught hold of Blair’s ass and yanked him closer. He took a whiff for himself then, filtering out his own body odor, and cotton candy laced Blair filled his senses. He leaned in and kissed Blair, sticky-lipped with sugary residue. And then he realized that tiny globs of the confection were spattered across Blair’s chest and spidery-webbed strands of it hung suspended among his curls and off his earrings. He chuckled, and pushed Blair’s jeans down, sinking to his knees at the same time. He licked Blair’s cock, and sucked it into his mouth.</p>
<p>Sure enough, cotton candy.</p>
<p>Blair’s belly shook with laughter as he dug his fingers into the back of Jim’s neck, and kissed the top of his head. He urged Jim on, thrusting his cock deeper into Jim’s mouth. Jim dug his fingers into Blair’s butt, pinching and squeezing the cheeks. He slid his fingers up and down the crack, teasing and probing. Blair came, panting and chuckling and chanting Jim’s name.</p>
<p>Jim remained on his knees for a moment, enjoying the taste of Blair, before trailing kisses up along Blair’s stomach, pulling himself to his feet as he nibbled cotton candy on his way up Blair’s torso. He took a moment to swipe a hand across his lips, and then he licked the back of his hand, slurping up more Blair taste. Then he kissed Blair and tangled his fingers in Blair’s hair, playing with the sticky curls. He was feeling dizzy; floating on a Blair induced sugary high.</p>
<p>“Got any more of that?” Jim slurred as his eyes met Blair’s.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, man,” Blair rasped as his heartbeat sped up and his eyes flickered with mischief. “Oh yeah,” he repeated, licking his lips. “In fact,” he added cautiously, “I just happen to have a bottle of sno-cone syrup over by the bed.” He waggled his eyebrows in that way that made Jim’s heart melt.</p>
<p>“Mmmmmmm,” Jim hummed as he manhandled Blair across the small expanse of the trailer. Blair put up a token fight, just for show. Jim tossed Blair onto the bed and made a twirling motion with his forefinger, indicating Blair should flip onto his stomach. He snagged the bottle of blue raspberry syrup and started shaking it lazily.</p>
<p>Blair flipped over obediently, and shivered as Jim dribbled the cool, thick liquid across his butt. As he felt Jim’s tongue start lapping the syrup, he grunted and teased Jim, whispering the nickname he’d hung on him. The mumbled endearment staggered huskily from Blair’s mouth as a daring taunt, embodying rough-edged implications in the single word.</p>
<p>“Roustabout.”</p>
<p>And Jim lived up to the name.</p>
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